Dudley Helps
by smiley-face719
Summary: During a school assembly, Dudley is asked what makes him kind and brave. His parents say he is, but then why can't he think of a reason? Oneshot


Disclaimer - I do not own any of J.K. Rowlings' ideas or characters.

* * *

It was another school assembly. Dudley didn't like these, you weren't allowed to talk during them and everyone had to sit on the floor by class to listen. But there was nothing for it, everyone had to attend. He had tried to skip the last one, but Ms. Haskell had been taking attendance and she saw him sneaking off. Today, Dudley's class was the first to arrive, being next door to the gymnasium, so there was extra time to wait while everyone filed in.

Piers, Dudley's best friend, was sitting next to him as always. They had met last year and had been practically inseparable since, wreaking havoc in class, the lunch room, and recess. "Hey, Piers, did they say what today's assembly was supposed to be about?"

"They're bringing in one of those dumb people who dresses up as characters, I think. See them there, in the corner? It's like they think we're babies still." Piers was bouncing slightly in his seat, turning from side to side and watching everyone be sorted into seating areas. "Hey, that's your cousin, right?"

Dudley turned, following Harry with his eyes while a sneer worked its way onto his face. "I don't know why he gets to go to school with me, now. Mum and Dad always said school would be my chance to get away from him," Dudley muttered. Granted, Harry was a year younger so at least Dudley had had free reign of the school for a year without him. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about his cousin. His parents always called him out on being a "freak" and a "nuisance", but as far as Dudley was concerned he was pretty convenient. He didn't know how he would get away with as much as he did without Harry to blame things on.

While he was thinking, Mr. Beals – the principal –had stood up on stage. "Good morning, children!"

"Good morning, Mr. Beals," the kids called back, some waving from the front row.

"Today, we have two special visitors who want to talk to you all about being a good friend and what you can do to help others in trouble."

"Like when Geoffrey broke his leg, I went to the nurse!" This was shouted from one of the year one students, Dudley thought his name might be Bernard. Stupid little kids – if he kept talking, the assembly would take even longer to end!

"Yes, you got an adult to help him because he was hurt and in trouble, that's exactly right! So today, we have Leo the Lion and Officer Gables here to talk to you about what else you can do to help!"

Dudley clapped along with the other kids as the two speakers came out on stage, waving. After all, it was pretty cool that a police officer was going to talk to them, too. They had to balance out the baby-ness with something!

Officer Gables introduced himself and Leo the Lion before asking the children if anyone knew what his job was. Dudley turned to Piers, board, and decided that he'd didn't need to listen anymore. After all, everyone knew what he was – you could see his badge and he had a Police officer hat on and everything! He didn't need to listen. Piers pulled out a pencil and notepad from a pocket and started a game of tic tac toe. Neither of them were very good with their writing yet and if they tried to talk, they wouldn't be allowed out for recess later.

Five minutes later, a thoroughly distracted Dudley was taken by surprise when the girl to his left started nudging him.

"What," he hissed, nudging her back. It was then that he noticed everyone eyes were on him, clearly expecting something.

"Um," he gulped. "Sorry, what was that?" He wasn't sure why they were focused on him, but he could tell they were acting the same way as when he missed hearing the teacher ask a question in class. He looked up to Officer Gabbles, hoping he would talk again or move on.

"We are going around and talking about times when you've seen someone in trouble and tried to help. Can you think of a time when you had to be brave to help?" Officer Gables was looking friendly still, and Dudley was glad he was right that the Officer wasn't going to be just another boarding adult. He clearly understood how important Dudley could be if he was asking that.

"Well, I –" and he froze. Why couldn't he think of anything? His parents were always telling him how brave and wonderful he was. Why couldn't he think of the reason he was clearly so amazing? "I, I-" and he paused again, looking around.

"That's okay, son, it can be hard to think of memories when asked. If you recall, the first few friends we asked didn't have an answer either."

"I'M brave and kind because my mom cut her hand on broken glass, I helped her take the glass out so it wouldn't get infected," someone called out, impatient for their turn.

Officer Gables nodded, apparently done waiting for Dudley to answer, and went on to talk about how there were a lot of different ways to be brave. Sometimes we're brave letting a spider go free outside, and sometimes we're helpful and kind by helping parents with carrying groceries. Sometimes we're kind AND brave when we see someone in trouble or hurt and get help.

Meanwhile, Dudley was still thinking about his answer. His parents always called him brave. He was the bravest, best kid in the whole wide school! He was sure of it! Content with his pep talk, he got Pier's attention and resumed their game. He could always make his parents tell him why he was brave later, there was no need to think about it now.

* * *

It was afternoon pick-up and Dudley crawled into Petunia's car, ready to go home. "How was school today, Diddykins," she asked once he was buckled. Normally Dudley hated the ride home because his mum always made him talk about his day. What he didn't realize was that this is the car ride home was the only chance he gave her to talk to him. At the age of seven, he was already hyper focused enough on the tele when home that he didn't acknowledge when other's talked to him, and if he wasn't watching the tele then he was playing with Piers. Today was Wednesday, which meant it wasn't one of the prearranged weekly days Pier's came to his house, and it wasn't one of the day's that he went to Pier's house. But, he did finally have something he wanted to talk about.

"Mum, what makes me brave?"

Petunia looked back at her son, excited he was responding but confused about the response. "Why do you ask that, Pumpkin?"

"We were asked about how we're kind and brave in assembly today. You and Dad always tell me I'm those, and I wanted to know why," Dudley shrugged, uncomfortable with the concern now shown on his Mum's face. He wasn't a baby, he was seven! He just needed an example to go by.

"Well Sweetums, you're the kindest boy I know," she said, putting on a smile. "You have a large heart and are always polite, and you're not afraid of anything!"

Dudley nodded, confused about why the size of his heart made him kind but pleased that she noticed how things never scared him. They continued the drive home, Petunia asking questions and Dudley doing his best to ignore them, making a list in his head about what shows he'd watch first when he got home.

That night after dinner Dudley watched cartoons from the table as his cousin Harry cleared the dishes. Feeling mischievous, Dudley slowly slid his foot out from under the chair and into Harry's path. ' _He'll never see it coming,'_ he thought just before, as predicted, Harry failed to see the reaching leg and tripped. Harry managed to catch his balance stepping out with his other foot, but failed to catch the dishes he had been carrying. Dudley watched with an odd feeling as plates and cups fell to the floor, shattering. What he didn't expect was for Harry to immediately drop down and start trying to pick up the pieces with his hands, or for his Dad to come charging in.

"What the Devil is going on in here!" bellowed Vernon, stopping in front of Harry.

"I, I slipped, I'm sorry, I'll clean it up – I mean, I'm cleaning it up, I'm sorry!" Harry stood to bring the pieces he had gathered to the trash. When he started crouching down to get more, Vernon pushed him from behind. Dudley watched as his cousin caught himself in the shattered glass, sticking multiple pieces into his palms and trying to hold back tears.

"You good for nothing worthless brat, this is the last thing we need from you! What do you expect us to eat on when you go breaking our plates? You want us to starve, don't you? Ungrateful, that's what you are. Why, when you're done cleaning this mess, it's straight to the cupboard with you! There'll be nothing for you to ruin in there, whelp!"

Dudley watched, frozen, as his Dad supervised the clean up before carrying his cousin by the shift and throwing him into the cupboard. All he could think about was the glass in Harry's hands, and how the pieces were still there, and how there would be no tweezers in the cupboard, and how his Mum couldn't give a real example that made him brave. That other kid at the assembly was brave for helping get the glass pieces out, but there was no way for Dudley to do that. His Dad was already scooping his favorite kind of ice cream out and his Mum was setting up the tele in the living room, and if he tried to help Harry get the glass out then he'd probably get blood on himself.

It was like that book his teacher used to read – If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. Well, if Dudley helped Harry, he would get blood on himself. If he got blood on himself, his Mum would make him bathe. If he bathed, he might miss the reruns of Roobarb and Custard, and if he missed his shows, he'd have nothing to eat his ice cream to.

At this point, Dudley was already walking into the living room, sitting in his favorite spot. "Dad, where's my ice cream," he demanded. He had already decided that tomorrow, he would tell his teacher about the glass in Harry's hand first thing. That way, he was being kind and brave by alerting a teacher like he was supposed to when someone got hurt, but he wouldn't have to miss his shows or his ice cream.

* * *

The next morning, Dudley walked purposefully into his classroom and straight to his teachers' desk. "Ms. Haskell, Harry has glass in his hand!" Dudley smiled, proud of himself for how brave and kind he was being. He didn't forget, and he wasn't afraid to tell her. With that, he turned to walk back to his desk – Piers had just walked in and he wanted to talk about last night's episodes.

But Ms. Haskell had her hand on his shoulder. "Wait dear, Harry who? We don't have a Harry in our class, Dudley." She was crouched down to eye level, something Dudley hadn't had an adult do for him in a while, and was smiling kindly. Everything was fine, he just forgot not everyone knew Harry.

"Oh, my cousin. He lives with us. He got glass in his hand last night and I'm being brave and kind – you know, telling a teacher when someone is hurt. I, uh, think he's in Mrs. Jenkins class." Dudley said all this with the smile still present, glad he was able to clarify so quickly. Being good took a long time. He looked over to see Pier's gesturing from his seat impatiently. Dudley didn't blame him, it had been a good episode last night. He started walking over, not noticing when Ms. Haskell darted out of the room, pausing to let the aid know she'd be a few minute late starting class and to run the morning announcements.

Also unseen was when she stepped into Mrs. Jenkins class, inquiring whether she had a Harry. The teachers watched as Harry sat quietly on his own, hands face up in his lap protected under the table. Mrs. Jenkins shared how this wasn't unusual behavior for him, but laced with the information from Dudley, both teachers were concerned and thought it best to check on him.

"Harry dear, I'm your cousin Dudleys' teacher. He said you had glass in your hands. Did you have an accident?"

* * *

I can't settle on a way for this to progress, so I'm planning on keeping it as a oneshot. But I'm interested in seeing others be inspired by this, whether it's to continue it or write a new version. I feel like Dudley would be taught to recognize abuse at some point in school and while I understand it likely wouldn't make an effect based on his upbringing, what if it did? I feel like this is one of the few scenarios seldom explored.

Thanks for reading!


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